Picking blackberries

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pick blackberries."
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I was out walking through the hedgerows and over the fields today. As I walked I was lost in thought and in prayer.  I was hardly aware of my surroundings. Then, I spotted a thorny blackberry branch sticking out into my path. It was covered with ripening blackberries. I thanked God for this small gift and decided to have a little snack.

I did not grow up in a berry picking area. Last year my children and I took small buckets and went berry picking, sharing this first with one another. It was really fun! Very few of the berries found there way to the buckets as our purple fingers and tongues testified to our indulgence. As we picked, we discovered that a truly ripe blackberry needs only a slight tug to come off. If it doesn't come of easily in your hand, you leave it, knowing that it is not ripe yet.

Today, I walked along, spotting and enjoying the blackberries springing out of the hedgerows and lining my path. I tried to select just the right berries. I thought about the fun that the kids and I will have as the berry bonanza continues over the next few weeks. As I walked, I spotted a particularly delicious looking berry. It was full and dark. It looked perfect.

As I reached for it, I was careful to spot the thorns around it and to thread my hand through to it safely. I gently grasped it between my fingers and gave it a little tug. It did not come off as I expected. I looked at it again, convinced that it was right for the picking. I pulled a little harder. Nothing happened. A little frustrated, I gave it a firm jerk. As I did so, the branch bent and the surrounding thorns found my hand and arm.

I retrieved my wounded arm, examining the scratches as well as the berry I was now holding. It looked great! My mouth was watering as I popped it in. My taste buds were in for a rude shock, as the berry was sour and woody rather than tender and sweet. It looked so good, but it was not ripe. I shook my head at my folly. 

As I spat the sour fruit of my impatience out on the ground, I found myself wondering what that was all about. I realized that this small incident was an illustration of my approach to life and ministry. I survey the world around me, see opportunities, analyze the cost benefit ratio, and grab for what seems best to me. It all happens so fast that I find myself scratched and frustrated before I know what has happened.

I wonder what it would be like...If I would only slow down. If I would be more patient. If I would reach out a bit more tentatively and less grasping. If I would be less insistent and more responsive. If I would trust God to produce the ripeness and allow the unripe fruit to remain unpicked until He has made it ready. What would my ministry look like? What sourness and scratches might I avoid?

Ministering to the Lord

As I read this morning, I was struck by this phrase, "bless the Lord". It sounds strange in my ears. "The Lord is the source of blessing," I thought. "He does not need to be blessed."  Then I remembered the phrase "ministering to the Lord." I looked it up and found that it occurs several places in the Scriptures. 

As I pondered this, I wondered why it sounds strange to me. ministering to the Lord and blessing the Lord were important, even central, aspects of the life of faith in the Old and New Testament periods. Why do they sound so strange to me?

Then I realized that we have exchanged "ministering to the Lord" with "ministry for the Lord." We have subtly moved God out of the center and moved the focus of our lives onto the work. This new perspective puts us at the center. It is a way of subtly exalting ourselves and what we can do for Him. It puts the focus on us, or perhaps on "the lost". We wrap our idolatry up in spiritual sounding language.

He invites us to minister to Him, to bless Him, to enter into real relationship with Him. Then, He does the work. He does the saving. He does the ministering. From that place of humility and dependence He sets us aside for the work that He has for us (Acts 13). We tend to identify what we think we should be done and to ask Him to empower our plans, our methodologies, and our efforts. Then, as our plans succeed, we praise the Lord while siphoning of some of the glory for ourselves because we were the ones doing the ministering.

We need to recover the centrality of God. We need to place Him at the center. We need to focus our lives on ministering to Him rather than for Him. I choose this again today. I choose to wait on the Lord. I choose to bless the Lord. I choose to minister to the Lord.

Another Dog Blog

My dog just ate more of her bed.

I knew that something was wrong because she looked guilty and pseudo repentant as soon as she saw me. I went toward her and she immediately threw herself on the ground and turned over. As I approached I could see the fluff all over the floor and knew what had happened.

The irony of this is that scattered all around her bed are a dizzying array of chew toys: rope ones, plastic ones, bone ones, wooden ones. She enjoys those toys. They all show signs of her oral affection, but now they are neglected as she grovels before me. She is repenting for chewing the only thing in the room that she knows is off limits.Why does she do this?

Why does she choose the forbidden thing when perfectly legitimate things are all around her? She obviously understands that there will be negative consequences for her choice. That doesn't prevent her from doing it though. She chooses the thing that she knows is bad rather than the any of the many things that are good.

Why do we do this?

My Brother

I have a brother.  I've never seen him face to face, but I know him. He died many years before I was born. I have read the story of his life. I have read his words and have grown to love him. I knew him first by reputation. I heard people talking about him. Then, one day, I met him.

I just talked with him again this morning. We talk frequently these days.  I have gotten to know him pretty well through the years, but as we plumb the depths of our relationship I realize that I am nowhere near the bottom.

Today I am wondering about what it was for him when he was growing up. I know that he had a mom and dad as well as brothers and sisters. He was the first born and the circumstances around his birth were somewhat scandalous. There were questions about his legitimacy, his mother's honor and fidelity, his real parentage.

What was it like for him to learn to walk? What was it like for him to learn to speak? How did he learn to obey? I know that he had a body and a brain very much like mine. He was filled with sweat, spit, and blood. He was full of curiosity and questions. He felt sadness, frustration, and anger as well as happiness and joy. He had a great since of humor as well.

He lived a real human life with all of the temptations and trials that we all experience. He lived and learned, making mistakes along the way, but he did it all without sinning. He did it all without breaking fellowship with his Heavenly Father. He showed us that it could be done. He showed us how it could be done.

I have long known that Jesus was God, that Jesus was my King. Now, I long to know him as a man, as my brother.